Got a Light?
by Angelic Prophecy
Summary: What if Mark had been the one in the Loft instead of Roger when Mimi came knocking? / Obviously AU. / Rated for some cursing and suggestive parts. / Oneshot!


**So there are so many things I could be updating right now, but instead I write this. I fail epically. But it had to be done.**

**Really, this story's an AU, just a little thought that popped into my head since my friends and I have discussed it before. What if Mark had been the one to answer the door instead of Roger? This is just a little explanation of what would happen, from our favorite filmmaker's point of view... Based loosely on Light My Candle, obviously, though I really don't follow the song lyrics or tune here. I just made most of my own dialogue to make things more interesting, though main themes are pretty much the same.**

**This fic is rated T, by the way, for a few curse words and a little bit of... let's say flirtation from Miss Mimi! :P  
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**And before all ya canon junkies go crazy on me, I don't really ship Mark/Mimi at all. This was just for fun! For my own amusement, and hopefully yours! So enjoy!**

**It's not mine! Don't sue, please! I'm just a poor high school student!**

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_December 24__th__, 9:15 PM, Eastern Standard Time_

A lot can happen in 15 minutes. Your ex-roommate can come back home after a year and then tell you he's afraid he'll be detained. For what? No idea, but nothing would really be surprising. Your other ex-roommate, the one who turned landlord, can call you up and demand the past year's rent. Yeah, that rent he never mentioned to you before now. Your ex-girlfriend can call and ask for your assistance fixing her equipment for a protest she's holding later that night, to fight against the aforementioned roommate-turned-landlord. And most surprisingly of all, your current roommate can suddenly, finally decide he wants to leave the apartment and try and look for the first ex-roommate I mentioned. Either that, or maybe he's just tired of you talking to yourself. Or he's just got cabin fever and needs to go outside. Whatever the reason, at least he's out of the house for a change.

Like I said, A lot can happen in 15 minutes. But very few of those will top what's going to happen in the next five.

Since Maureen had called and so-politely requested my help with her sound equipment, I was obliged to go, and after getting over the shock of the fact that Roger had decided to go out and after I'd finished worrying about him since it was his first time outside the house and he was alone, I figured I should probably get my stuff together. I was already dressed up to go, though I couldn't find my gloves and I was looking for a certain cable that I'd probably need. I was in the midst of searching through my cluttered, messy closet when one of the more interesting things that would happen that night suddenly decided to appear.

It all started with a knock at the door. I didn't hear the sound at first, until they repeated it, louder, and I frowned. I figured it was probably either Roger, who might've forgotten his key and couldn't get in, or Collins who'd gotten here without Roger knowing. I wasn't too sure about either one of these, but I pushed myself up off the floor of my closet and made my way to the front door, puzzling about it in my head. I pulled the door open, expecting to see one of my friends.

There was one thing for certain about the person on the other side of the door: This was definitely _not_ one of my roommates.

For one thing, the person was a female. A petite young female, her features Hispanic in appearance from what I could tell in the dim light. As soon as I opened the door, she held out her fist, in which she was clenching a candle, and smiled prettily.

"Got a light?"

For a moment, I was stunned beyond coherent thought. It wasn't exactly everyday an attractive young woman showed up at my front door with a candle and asked me to light it for her. It wasn't everyday _any_ woman showed up at my front door, period. And chances were, if they did, they were looking for Roger.

But then I regained my power of speech… Sort of.

"Um…" I looked between the candle and her face before nodding vigorously. "Yeah! Um, yeah. I do." I stood there for a moment, chewing on my bottom lip before stepping aside. "You can come in. If you want to."

"Thanks." She moved past me into the apartment and I stood there in the doorway, motionless for a few seconds before swallowing and spinning around, pulling the lighter that I'd used to light the fire earlier that evening out of my pocket, trying to get it to light. And of course, it wouldn't. I fumbled with it a few times before it finally stayed lit for more than a second, and lit the candle. Suddenly her pretty face came into view by the light of the small flame, and I felt myself turning red as she gazed back at me. She could probably see it well – damn my pale complexion! – but if she did she made no comment.

"You're shivering. Are you cold?" I blurted suddenly, mentally smacking myself five seconds later for even asking such a stupid question. Of _course_ she was cold! It was the beginning of winter in New York! Not to mention the fact that she wasn't wearing much… Just a sweater and a short skirt, her slender legs bare.

She looked at me with an incredibly confused expression before nodding slowly. I nodded back and took off my coat, wrapping it around her thin shoulders. Okay, so now I was cold. But I'd survive it, I guessed. We stood there a moment in an awkward silence before she spoke.

"So… Your roommate around? The cute, broody blonde one?"

Ha. Figures she'd be looking for Roger. Why didn't the hot girls ever come around looking for _me_? I sighed, though I tried to hide my disappointment

"No… He's out." I finally said. She seemed disappointed now too, but she didn't go anywhere. Another awkward moment passed and I looked at her. The more I stared, the more familiar she seemed to become, though I couldn't place a name or anywhere I'd possibly seen her before. She had the biggest brown eyes, I noticed. They were chocolate brown, so similar to Maureen's…

"You're staring." She commented with a smirk, and I blinked and looked away, embarrassed. "What?"

"Nothing." I spoke a bit too quickly. "You just… Um… Reminded me of someone I know."

"Oh, yeah, I get that a lot." She nodded understandingly, walking toward the window now, her back to me, though she twisted around. "What's her name?" Damn, she was good…

"Maureen…" I mumbled. "She's my ex, we broke up about a month ago…"

Suddenly the girl spun around, the candle no longer lit. Was there a draft in here? Wouldn't surprise me.

"Candle's out." She said, rather unnecessarily, as she approached, holding out toward me. I fumbled again with the lighter and relit the candle and she smiled at me for a few seconds. "So… Maybe I should…Ow!" Suddenly she pulled a hand back from the candle, daintily sucking on the tip of one of her fingers.

"Did you get burned?" I asked her, leaning forward out of concern.

"Just the wax." She shook her head, and then looked back at me, her eyes going slightly soft and hazy. "It's dripping…" She moved a little closer… "You know, I like it between my…" Holy shit, was that her knee between my legs? Was this girl actually trying to hit on me? Whatever it was she was doing, it was certainly getting to me, that much was rather _obvious_. I let out a rather un-manly squeak of a sound, jumping back.

"Whoa! Okay!" My voice had risen rather suddenly in pitch, and just like that I was 15 all over again. "Um. Right. Yeah. I get what you…" I swallowed hard, looking at the clock on the wall. "You know, I, um, I have somewhere to be…"

"Oh." She said rather abruptly, frowning and shucking off my coat. "Well, thanks anyway." I took the coat back from her and watching her departing, my face still red, trying in vain to calm down. _Cold shower, cold shower, just think of a very very cold shower…_

I turned to go back to my room when I heard the sound of a fist rapping on the door. I turned to see the girl still standing there, her face etched with confusion and worry, her candle gone out again.

"Something wrong?"

"I just…" She patted along her beltline as though feeling for something. "I think I dropped my stash…" She wandered back into the living room, eyes scanning the floor, and my own eyes widened. Her _stash_? Suddenly the sweat on her small face and her shivers made more sense to me. I exhaled, and shook my head, setting my coat on our makeshift coffee table.

"Want me to light your candle again? You're not going to have much luck looking in the dark…" I suggested weakly. Perhaps it was a silly ploy, but it would be nice to get closer to her again, to smell that perfume or whatever it was she was wearing… That was the thing about women, they almost always seemed to have a pleasant smell about them… But anyway, she ignored my suggestion and seemed to be intent in her search, so I paused and then spoke again. "I really do think I've seen you before." She groaned and walked past me, looking a bit more before dropping to her hands and knees. Suddenly there she was, on all fours on my floor, her backside pretty much right in my direction, my thought of a cold shower suddenly instantly reversed by the sight. So I couldn't help but stare at her, really!

"You know, they say I've got one of the best asses in Manhattan." She trilled from the floor, obviously aware of the fact that I was staring and obviously amused by this fact as well. "Is it true?"

"What?" And once more I was a turned-on prepubescent boy. "Um, well, I guess so, I mean, I suppose it's very…" What the hell was I doing? I'm not the type of person to just comment on a girl's butt that way! My face was all scarlet at this point, my hands waving frantically in the air for no reason at all, and somehow I found myself also searching for her small bag, not sure what else to do with myself. At least it'd be a distraction… There wasn't much on the floor except bottle caps and a few discarded cigarettes. Just trash…

"Have you ever been to the Catscratch Club?" Well _that_ had been a rather abrupt question! I walked along the side of the table and looked down at her in confusion.

"The Catscratch Club?" And slowly her familiarity began to make sense to me.

"That's where I work." She explained softly. "I'm one of the dancers there."

"_Ohh_." That made so much sense to me. It explained why I hadn't known her name, but her face was so familiar. I assumed I'd just accidentally caught her on camera, or seen her at the store or on the street or something. But suddenly my single venture to the Catscratch Club came to mind. It had been a long time ago, before April had died, when we were all still living together. Roger and Collins had insisted on a guy's night out at the Catscratch (what Collins would get out of such a club, I wasn't ever really sure…) Maureen hadn't minded the idea at all. In fact, she'd wanted to _come along_ (that should've told me something there, but in my embarrassment at being dragged to this place I was blissfully blind toward such thoughts.) So the three of us guys had ended up there, drinking and watching the scantily-clad women dance to the too-loud music. "…You're the handcuff dancer, aren't you?"

"That'd be me." She said, her tone neither positive nor negative as she continued searching. "But whatever. It's a living, at least…"

"I guess…" I replied. We searched aimlessly for another moment.

"You know, maybe the candle would help a little…" She held it up to me, her brown eyes wide, and I bit my lip, shuddering a little bit as I crouched down and lit the candle for a third time.

"Y'know, you really shouldn't do that stuff." I said softly, my caring side getting the better of me. "I mean, how old are you? Can't be more than 18…"

"I'm 19." She said, without missing a beat. She hopped to her feet and wandered. I also got back up, though now I just watched her taking step after graceful step around our crappy apartment.

"My roommate used to do that stuff. It's not good…"

"Oh, really? I had no idea." Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and I glanced at my feet. That was when I spotted the small plastic bag of white powder near the toe of my shoe. I watched her to get a moment when she wasn't looking and then quickly reached down and snatched the thing up, feeling dirty just by touching it as I slid it into my back pocket. Had she seen? "What was that?" Okay, so she had seen. Oh well. I could make up a lie, right?

"Nothing. Just a receipt." I said quickly, sitting down on the couch to keep her from getting to the pocket. She looked skeptical, but shrugged. I shot a glance at the clock. Oh, I really should've been going by now! Maureen was going to kill me! She came over close to me and sat on the edge of the couch by me, blowing out the candle and setting it on the coffee table.

"Oh well. I tried." She said softly, looking at the hands which were conveniently folded in my lap. A smirk pulled at her lips. "You always sit that straight?" Her tone was teasing and I could tell she wasn't actually talking about my posture. I blushed and looked away, and she grabbed one of my hands, holding it between both of hers. Her hands were small and clammy, but her touch felt oddly nice… "Cold hands…" She mused aloud. "Small though…"

"My roommate's gonna be back any minute now." I blurted out. "And I really gotta go. So. This has been… Interesting. But, um… I should really be…" But suddenly she was pretty much in my lap, still holding onto my hand.

"You wanna dance?" The way she had worded it, I wasn't quite sure if she was asking if I wanted to dance _with_ her, or if I wanted her to dance_ for_ me. From her position in my lap, I assumed it was the latter.

"T-That's okay." I said quickly, moving to get her off my lap so I could stand. She stood with me, and smiled broadly, grabbing her candle off the table.

"I never got your name. You could tell me that, at least, right?"

"Mark." I muttered softly, my face still a consistent shade of red. "My name's Mark. What's yours?"

"Oh…What's in a name?" She asked me with a shrug. The girl moved closer, her hand reaching toward my back pocket. I really didn't mind anymore if she took her drugs, at least they'd be – holy shit, was she taking her drugs or groping my ass? She pulled out the small plastic bag and tucked it safely back into her belt, almost skipping toward the door before turning back around, holding the edge of it. "But just so you know, most people call me Mimi." And then she was gone and down the stairs just like that, leaving me alone. I stared after her for a long moment, before I finally shook my head, and tried to tone down my embarrassing blush and stop feeling like a boy in the throes of puberty. It took a while, but finally I snapped out of it and decided that I didn't need my gloves or that cable I'd been searching for. So I picked up my bag, and pulled on my coat, making my way to the door. It really didn't matter right now if a gorgeous stranger had just flirted with me and groped me for no real reason at all, did it? I still had a protest to save.

It had all happened in 5 minutes, though I never would've guessed it. It all started with that one little question, that one that I will never think of the same way again.

_Got a light?_

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**So I was thinking maybe if enough of you guys liked this, I could do a sequel for later on in the story? Maybe? Review, please, and let me know what you think! Reviews are loveee! They let me know you're out there! So press the button and type me something, please and thanks?**


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